Delerium Part Two

The people and events in this story come from my brain, not the realworld. Regardless of what that tells you about my brain, it means that I'mnot writing about you, your mom, your friends, or your friends' friends. So you can't sue me. Neener neener.

If you're underage in your territory (and you know what I mean), thenread something else. Note: It seems I took a longer route with the secondpart of this story, which messes with the continuity if you're jumpingright into this from the first part. Your Honor, I ask the court'sindulgence :)

(c) 2001 Aerosol Kid

Friday, Week Seven

She was late for class, but couldn't bring herself to go into thebuilding. Sofia frowned, took a drag off her cigarette, then ashed ontothe cobbled pavement, shivering in the cold. There was no reason she couldthink of to be afraid of sight-singing, but she'd been on edge for days. Even walking down the hall spooked her, because she had this weird notionthat just around the corner might be... some kind of other place. Sofiayawned and stretched, shook herself, then watched the last smoke from herexhalation slowly mix into cold November air. The curling trails werequickly sucked away into the courtyard, instead of the way they lazily rosearound her head in her dorm room, making her follow the wafting linesinto...

Fuck. Miss Zemanova was going to give her a really hard time forwalking in late, so she might as well face the music, so to speak. Shejogged into the building and up the stairs, book in hand.

The sound of the other girls' singing almost made her stop again in thehall, but she steeled herself and gently pushed open the heavy wooden doorto the classroom.

Predictably, Miss Z didn't even give her an inch of slack. She wavedangrily to the girls to stop and turned to face Sofia, who eyed her deskacross the room.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure, Sofia?" She rested her hand on herhip and awaited a reply, blond eyebrows arched.

"Sorry," Sofia replied breezily. "Forgot my book and had to go back."She slid into her seat and gave an insincerely apologetic smile. Still, inthe pit of her stomach was a queasy deja vu. Something about someone elsebeing late, maybe last week. But she pushed the feeling away in the faceof the immediate threat.

Miss Z smiled, because Sofia had shown no outward sign of intimidation."Yes, you're quite the forgetful little thing as of late. Wandering aroundthe campus with a lost look on that pinched face." Sofia didn't really likeor know where Miss Z was going with this, but she kept her expressionpolitely attentive. "And while your performance on the midterm wasadequate, you'll do well not to forget there is still half a term to go."

Adequate... Sofia could sing this crap in her sleep! Why they wouldn'tlet her test out of all these ear-training courses entirely was beyond her.It was like they wanted her to go through these endless hours of singing insleepy classrooms for some other reason. Regarding the stern teacher infront of her desk, she simply smiled again, hoping to cut the publicflogging short.

Miss Z looked around the room. "Girls, Line Forty-Two, from thebeginning. And three. Four."

Sofia jumped in without cracking her book, staring at Miss Z. To showthat she didn't need this course or lessons from this goose-steppingteacher. It wasn't the wisest move, but Sofia rarely backed down from aconfrontation. So she let loose her robust soprano, stepping through theexercise with assurance, adding a touch of vibrato at the end of the lineas a little "fuck you".

The girls were now silent, waiting for instruction, but Miss Z was juststaring down at Sofia, and after a moment chairs began to creak awkwardly.

"Line Forty-Three," said Miss Z, planting her palms on Sofia's desk. "And three. Four." Then she began to sing with the class, eyes neverleaving Sofia's. Her voice was much louder and she matched Sofia's mannerperfectly, even imitating the cheeky vibrato at the end of the line. Sofiawanted to crack a smile because this was a really stupid show to put on infront of the whole class, but better judgement prevailed.

"Line Forty-Four. Three. Four." It looked like Miss Z was going toteach the whole class from Sofia's desk, giving back every ounce of shitSofia dished out. Until next year, if need be. And then the strange thinghappened, the way it did each time: all the voices in the room pulledtogether, merging under the teacher's. Sofia knew she was still singingfrom the physical sensation, but she couldn't pick her own voice out of thechoir anymore. She finally broke Miss Z's gaze, looking at her desk. Herfingers crept to her book as she considered finally opening up to the rightpage and putting a stop to her smart-assed memorization routine, but sternhands gripped her wrists and put them back. Then one hand slipped underher chin and slowly, assuredly raised her head up. Miss Z had started thislittle game and she was going to finish it.

They finished the week's exercises in record time, and were made tostart over. Sofia blinked frequently, but couldn't break Miss Z's gaze. Those cold, hard blue eyes both challenged and teased, saying "Look into myeyes and I will make a meal of you."

It was on the second exercise that all the other voices in the roombecame inaudible, replaced by Miss Z's precise alto and a curious rushingnoise. It was harder and harder to concentrate - Sofia couldn't even tellif she was hitting the right notes, and the rushing, rumbling sound becamemore like a sensation. It was the feeling and sound of travelling; thesound of falling into Miss Z's eyes. And the sound of Sofia's bloodrushing through her veins.

She lost track of the exercises, of everything, even the proximity ofher teacher as frightening waves of dizziness assaulted her. And thatwasn't the only thing. The sound of her blood made her feel... engorged.She felt swollen, in her lips and behind her bra and in her clit, which wasa hard pebble underneath her desk. The dizziness increased along with theswelling, and Sofia thought that she moaned, only she was pretty sure shewas still singing somewhere and the last clear memory she had was of beingsorry for ever drawing the ire of Miss Zemanova, because that memoryshattered into hundreds of pieces of memories of the last six weeks, justas her head fell forward and

In the dream she's trying to free her wrists, but she's chained to acold stone wall. It's dark, and she can only see the outlines of the manyfemale figures in front of her. She feels a cold swipe across her belly,and looks down to see a line of red paint. Before she can look up again,many fingers dabbed with paint begin to cross her skin. She's trying totell them to stop because the sensations are flattening her, inside herhead. And they're stoking her, between her legs, pushing her to a climaxshe doesn't want, because then she'll slip into another dream instead ofwaking up wherever she just was, where her real self is in some kind oftrouble. They don't stop painting and she knows with dismal clarity thatshe's going to cum and there's nothing she can do to stop it. She sucksair in a series of incremental, freezing gasps as everything finally breaksloose, and her walls clench painfully. The wash of ecstasy feels bad andwrong somehow, like all the paint on her body is draining out of her sexonto the cold floor and

all of the girls collected their books and shuffled out of the room,pointedly ignoring Sofia as she realized she was sitting there at her desk.Just as she began to look around the room for Miss Z, she felt a tight,slightly friendly squeeze around her shoulders. "Run along, Sofia. Youdon't want to be late for your next class." The squeeze became abewildering caress of the back of her neck, and Sofia jumped up and hurriedout of the room.

Sunday, Week 8

Something bad was definitely going on here; she was aware of it againtoday. Sometimes it got pushed back, and she went for days without reallyknowing where she was or what she was doing. At times she'd almost feelnormal, just going through the routine of classes and practicing and such,but then she would realize she didn't feel anything except a gauzy hazeshutting out the extremes of emotion. Like the time her parents, horrifiedwith her Goth tendency toward the melancholy, put her on Prozac for asummer instead of simply remembering what it was like when they wereteenagers. Only this was much, much stronger.

Walking into the dining hall today, she could remember enough to knowshe needed to get out of there. And she knew damn well that she'd betternot attract too much attention doing it. Sofia also knew she needed help.

After loading up with the merely adequate dorm food at the serving line,she carefully circled the dining room, searching for a friendly face. Those were in short supply lately and Sofia was starting to figure out why.All of the younger students were going through whatever-it-was that washappening to her, but they reacted differently. Some had yielded almostinstantly to the invasive forces at work - these were easy to spot becausethey looked almost like department store mannequins, blankly chewing andswallowing. Others were slowly being broken down (like herself?), and inthe face of the invisible influence at work they were retreating inward. These girls were sullen and withdrawn, not seeing that the problem wasn'tpersonal. A few resisted strongly and openly, but Sofia was sure thattheir number was dwindling.

Then there was Bebel, who was always there for her. Sweet, sunny Bebel,who laughed easily and was generous with hugs. Only Sofia didn't trust heranymore because sometimes when they were alone in their room together, shecould feel Bebel looking at her while her back was turned. And it wasn't anice look. Bebel was one of them.

As Sofia scanned the dining hall, she finally spotted a girl eating byherself in the corner, shooting wary glances here and there. In thisroomful of glazed expressions, she might as well have been wearing at-shirt that said "potential ally." Sofia wandered casually up to her tableand asked, "This seat taken?"

The disheveled, short haired blond was much smaller than Sofia - afrightened, messy little art school pixie. She looked her up and downskittishly, but to Sofia's relief, she nodded her head at the seat.

Sofia seated herself and eagerly tore into her food, such as it was. She was nervous, so she diverted her attention to eating before sussing outher potential comrade. After clearing half of her plate she looked up tosee the other girl staring at her. "What?" she said around a mouthful ofbread and cheese.

"Most of them don't seem to be very hungry," the girl said softly,looking around the hall. Sofia opened her mouth again but before she couldspeak, the girl pointed to herself and said, "Anja."

Anja started to answer, but quickly resumed eating as a dining roomattendant brushed by. When the old lady had passed, she leaned forwardslightly. "I don't know... I just know that I can't remember what they'redoing to me. To us. And whenever I try to call my parents, the line'sconveniently disconnected."

Sofia kicked herself for not even thinking to try to call home. Shemust've been farther gone than she suspected. "I want to get out of here." "None of the students seem to leave, even the older ones. Whenever Iget to the gate something happens, and the next thing I know I'm back in myroom." Anja put down her fork to dab at her eyes with her napkin.

"There has to be a way," Sofia whispered. "Tonight let's meet up and -" "Oh!" Anja choked. She nearly knocked her glass over as she jumped up."I have to go." And before Sofia could call after her, she heard a familiarvoice.

Bebel's eyes briefly flicked across the room. Clearly she was. Jealous, and something else. "Don't be silly, I just want you to be happyhere. So many of the new students... well, they can't take the pressure." "I'll see you at juries. Then we'll see who can take pressure." Sofiawas pretty sure that's how she'd answer if she really were at a normalmusic school.

Bebel seemed delighted. "There's my dark little violista."

Thursday, Week 9

Things had gone from bad to worse in quartet rehearsals. Miss Z mayhave got the best of Sofia in sight-singing class, but she resigned to diebefore she let Lewellyn push her around, so poor Miranda and Reese - morerun down and tired each week - had to suffer through many tense hourspunctuated with elaborate insults.

Today they were reading something new, written by the head Musicologyprofessor. It was kind of an indulgence really; they were even recording arun-through for her later in the week. Unlike most of her fellow students,Sofia was game for almost anything modern, but this piece looked like areal challenge. It was reminiscent of Penderecki, but even more concernedwith textures and washes of sound. From Sofia's reading habits, she couldsee that the score was organized by numerological principles. It waspretty arcane stuff that made her roll her eyes when she first looked itover.

Lewellyn wasted no time baiting Sofia. "My my, Wednesday finally woresomething besides black today." To which Sofia replied by sticking out hertongue. So she felt like looking sexy today, what about it? She'd almostforgotten that she packed the little burgundy velvet dress until she foundit in the back of her closet that morning. It was exciting to doll up alittle, even if there wasn't a boy to be found for miles.

The odd thing was, things began to go pretty smoothly once they startedreading the new material. Sure there were a few train wrecks during thefirst movement while they adjusted to the unusual notation (the professorhad even sprinkled a little glitter over the pages!), but Lewellyn wasunusually charitable about starting over.

Sofia was so engrossed in her part that she didn't have time to scan theroom as often as she usually did. When she did look up, she noticed thatReese and Miranda looked a little pale. At first she thought it was theancient fluorescent lighting, but compared to them Lewellyn lookedpositively pink. Curiously, they were playing with a lot more oomph thanusual, even though they seemed so tired and withdrawn.

She didn't have much of a chance to think about it, though. The secondmovement was very demanding, full of note choices and other decisions leftup to her. So instead of merely reading down some sheet music, she had toimprovise based on what the others were doing. It was draining toconcentrate this much, but the piece was very lovely in the dark, menacingway Sofia liked best. She tried to follow the others, but she laggedbehind. That's when she realized something.

Miranda and Reese weren't listening to her at all. That had to be whatwas bogging things down: there was no interplay between them and her. Andthough she couldn't look up from the music, she knew Lewellyn well enoughto know she was smirking as she teased with her note choices, deliberatelyfollowing her in close intervals at times, drawing her along in octaves atothers. Soon Sofia found she was following Lewellyn's lead.

Then she noticed that Miranda and Reese were playing to Lewellyn, too.And it hit her - this piece wasn't about four individuals contributing to awhole, it was about three following one. Threes and ones littered thescore, and sensing this caused Sofia to actually droop forward a bit,either toward the page or toward Lewellyn.

As they segued into the third movement a massive head rush overtook her.Stars sparkled at the edge of her vision, blurring into the glitter on themusic. Weakly she noted that it was getting harder to draw her bow. Risking a glance during a long and particularly dissonant chord, she sawthat Miranda and Reese were blinking sleepily over their music stands. Lewellyn was flushed, sitting up very straight. Her eyes met Sofia's, thendanced down to her music and back to hers, beckoning Sofia's attention tothe task at hand. Sofia took a deep breath and arched her back, her dresssuddenly tight and uncomfortable. Grimly she realized that Lewellyn wassomehow feeding on her, and on the other girls, but it took all herstrength to simply sit and play, so she gave in and looked back to themusic.

Slowly, the rhythmless sheets of sound gave way to meter, and the pacequickened. As it did, Sofia felt her energy return. Only it feltdifferent: metallic and bitter. It was purely a physical energy, becauseit did nothing to clear her head. Without looking up again, she knew thatLewellyn was staring intently at her, chasing her along the fretboard inminor seconds. The ending sounded positively eerie, as though there was anentire orchestra of strange instruments in the room rather than a quartet.Sofia heard brittle scraping and rattling and heavy chains. And lustfulcries and howling. Her chin was sore from its tight grip on her viola andher legs were squeezed tightly together. Inexplicably, a gust of windseemed to blow through the stuffy room, making her dress flap against herthighs. Rapt, she tore through her final measures with complete abandon,nearly breaking a string as their final, sustained chord cluster rang out.But rather than ending together, Lewellyn had a brief solo that seemed tocommit the whole leering finale to the earth.

Breathing heavily, Sofia lowered her instrument, only to be startled bya loud whack! Miranda's cello had crashed to the floor and was now beingjoined by Reese, who spilled out of her chair with a sigh. Before Sofiaknew what she was doing, she jumped from her seat, stepped over Reese,swatted away the music stand in front of Lewellyn and eagerly pressed hermouth to the green-eyed quartet leader's.

Tuesday, Week Ten

Sofia paced in the dark little stone passageway, shivering. The shithad really hit the fan at this so-called school and it was time to leave.Anja, who'd agreed to meet her here at two in the morning, was late.

After quartet rehearsal the other day (or whatever you wanted to callit), and after she finally tore herself away from Lewellyn's powerfulcharms, she sat in a courtyard for hours. Chain-smoking on a stone benchin chilly drizzle, she tried to get her head together, but clarity wouldn'tcome. Why had she just locked lips (and a few other things) with anothergirl? A girl she couldn't stand?

By Sunday she wasn't much better off, but she had avoided Bebel andLewellyn all weekend and she was clear on one thing - get the hell out ofthis place or end up like poor, red-haired Hannah. Unfortunately, thoughtsof escape were interspersed with images of Lewellyn, and Sofia's breathingquickened at the thought of their bodies straining to press together, andthe smell of Lewellyn's breath, the taste of her mouth... This strongattraction to Evil Bitch didn't seem right at all, but that didn't make itany less powerful.

Sofia put out a hand to the cold wall to steady herself. Her othershaking fingers tapped a cigarette out of the carton in a jittery butpracticed motion, and she lit it greedily, hiding the flame to keep hercover of darkness. Where the hell was Anja? She squeezed her eyes shut,trying not to think of doing this by herself.

Noises on the steps leading down to the passageway. Sofia instinctivelycrouched, clenching her fists, but a thin veil of fog parted to revealAnja, white with fear and walking quickly toward her.

Anja seemed to snap out of it upon being touched. "I think they know,Sofia. I don't think they followed me but I don't think they need to. Please let's go!" She was running on fumes - it'd obviously takeneverything she had to get herself here.

Sofia relented. "Okay kid. Let's do it. Just like we planned." Shesteered Anja around in front of her, indicating that she was to lead, andthe tiny girl surged forward. They were in a series of rarely used sunkenpassageways behind the equipment storage buildings, thus unlikely toencounter anyone. These same stone corridors led to a locked iron gatethat looked easy to climb.

Anja had obviously made it this far more than once. "This is wheresomething usually happens," she said mournfully, shivering and eyeing thegate suspiciously.

"This is where we get off this ride," Sofia replied softly as shescrambled up the gate, which made a quiet, rusty protest. At this hour, itmight as well have been a burglar alarm, so she quickly reached down forAnja's hand from the top. "Make it fast!"

Anja wiped her nose and sniffed. "I wasn't talking to you." Then shegrasped Sofia's hand and wrestled her way to the top of the gate.

Getting down the other side was as easy as dropping ungracefully to thecobblestones, and Sofia didn't take the time to register the dull pain ofher unlimber calf muscles before hauling ass into a dark clearing, jerkingAnja along behind her. She didn't stop until they entered the adjoiningforest, and only then because it was so dark she couldn't see three inchesin front of her. She turned to say something to Anja, noticed that theother girl was staring back at the Conservatory. "Hey. We're almostthere. I checked these woods out from the bell tower this afternoon andthere's a clearing real close by. Which leads to the road. Anja?"

Sofia tugged experimentally on her sleeve. "Podemos nůs sair, porfavor?" She wasn't sure why she lapsed into the feeble Portuguese she'dlearned around Bebel these last few weeks, but Anja flinched, spun aroundand slipped by her, plunging into the dark woods. "Hey! Hold up!"Reaching out to keep from running into trees and branches, Sofia tried tofollow.

To her surprise, she found herself on a path with Anja barely visible afew meters off. In another moment they were in the clearing, and themoonlight swirling through the fog seemed like mid day after the darklittle forest. Sofia tried to catch up to her comrade, who was runningfull tilt now and clutching her head. Sofia, wheezing from too manycigarettes, eventually began to narrow the gap. Anja seemed to berepeating broken phrases to herself as she ran, clearly deranged from thefear and adrenaline.

"Anja," Sofia gasped as she tried to grab the little girl's hood. "Heystop!"

"Don't make me!" Anja was yelling. "I won't do it!"

"Goddamit!" Sofia breathed. "Stop! You're! Gonna stop! For me right!Now!" Sofia lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Anja, struggling toa halt. The other girl was close to hyperventilating. "Hey, kid," shetried to soothe. "Everything's cool. I think we huh!"

A sharp pain sparkled in her abdomen as Anja whirled around and steppedaway. Sofia looked down to see a little rip in her coat and the pulloverbeneath it. Then she looked up to see a long thorn in Anja's hand. Herexpression was anguished and her jaw worked wordlessly - she seemedapologetic in the grips of her fit. But Sofia clearly had other things toworry about, because everything around her seemed to recede at a sickeningspeed as she sank to her knees in the damp grass.

Then the strangest sound reached her ears, like a long, slow organ tone.It took her a moment to realize that it was the bell in the tower at theConservatory, and she was hallucinating; hearing it slowed down as shespilled to the ground. She rolled onto her back with the last musclecontrol she could muster as she realized that the bell was an alarm -"escaped initiates!"

She saw Anja standing over her, looking off into the distance with herhead cocked to one side. Witless. Sofia finally realized that her onlyally had been fighting silent commands this whole time. That she'd alreadybeen consumed by the school and would never escape with her. Neither wouldSofia, for that matter: she'd just lie here in the frost waiting forsomeone like Bebel or Miss Zemanova to come and collect her. Presently,she realized that Anja was speaking to someone. To her, it seemed.

"...didn't mean for this to happen. I'm so sorry and they're coming forme now. Have you ever seen the Headmistress? No one has. They were toostrong for me and I'm so sorry." Her tone shifted and Sofia could tell shewas answering her controller then. "Yes ma'am. I shouldn't have strayedfrom the road. The long road. I'll find my way back."

Anja curtsied and stepped over Sofia, who drifted into sleep.

Dead Week

In the dream she was naked, kneeling in a forest clearing, regarded bysilent cats before a spinning goblet. But that was the dream, and althoughSofia remembered little about what was happening to her, she knew she wasawake. Awake and naked in a forest clearing, kneeling with her wristsbound behind her back. And the cats were actually other women, Sofiarealized with a giddiness that came from a week of being plied with herbsand concoctions, in teas and salves and pills. She was so delirious fromthe drugs in her system that she failed to notice the harsh winter chill onher skin. She was also woozy from the loss of roughly one pint of blood,most of which spun in the goblet in the air before her, suspended by asingle violin string.

Some of that blood darkened the lips of the women around her, who hadsipped from the goblet before suspending it in front of Sofia and cruellymesmerizing her with it. Now true colors were revealed, and it madeperfect sense to see Bebel in black robes and with stained lips, chantingsoftly and forcing her to keep looking back to the goblet. Her roommatehad been in charge of the strange proceedings of the last week, which tookher out of the classroom and into frightening altars and basements. Inthese places she'd been bound, entranced, then pleasured. Repeatedly. Shehadn't been alone since the night she tried to escape. She remembered verylittle now, as the swaying crystal and blood took her deeper and deeperinto herself.

"Release yourself to us, young initiate," Bebel was imploring, very nearher right ear. The other women continued to chant, now led by MissZemanova.

Sofia made an attempt to close her eyes, and succeeded only in blurringthe bright moonlit sparkles of the crystal somewhat. "Why don't you takeyour witch-perv friends and piss off? Roomie."

Bebel laughed musically. Not at all witch-like. The chanting continuedaround them. "That's why you were chosen, Sofia. You've turned out to bestrong. Not at all like your disappointing friends."

Hannah and Anja. "What did you do to them?" Sofia asked softly.

"We showed them so much, yet they resisted," Bebel said regretfully. "We have many secrets here. Secrets we've kept for a long time." Shelicked her lips near Sofia's ear, making her shudder. "Hannah didn't makethe grade, so I'm afraid she's no longer with us. Anja will be... rehabilitated."

"What about me?"

"That depends."

"On what?" Sofia slurred. "On how long you and your pals want to taketurns drilling me with strap-ons?"

"It depends," Bebel said, her voice dipping, "on whether or not yousubmit to the Order. Which is why we're here. You're almost ready to meetthe Headmistress." She rose from Sofia's side and took her place in thecircle. "Concentrate on your lifeblood, initiate."

How heavy-handed, Sofia thought bleakly. My life, hanging by a thread.Or a string, as the case may be...

Miss Zemanova and the other witches shifted the rhythm of theirchanting, which immediately sucked at Sofia's will. As she faded, sherealized that they had allowed her to surface from her trance momentarilyto plead her case to Bebel. Her resistance had been handed to her toexamine, then locked away again where she couldn't touch it.

The rhythm of the voices began to get to her then, coaxing her body intobetraying her. She sat up straighter as she began to tighten, to moistenand to swell. Waves of sensation assaulted her as her body sang itsanticipation of impending contact with other bodies. Dark, perfect bodiesthat would ravish her on the cold ground, in the moonlight. Sofia's headdrooped forward, and her breath steamed over her bosom as the first handsbegan to touch her from all sides.

Finals Week

"It's time for you to meet someone."

A light streamed into the dark, smelly basement from a door at the topof the stairs. It made Sofia wince and shift in her bonds against thestone wall. Paint, in different degrees of dryness, irritated her skin. Just about every hole in her body except her skin pores ached frompenetration. It had been a long week.

Someone was coming down the steps, but Sofia was too exhausted to focusher eyes. She'd become so accustomed to the constant assault that shelonged for touch in its absence. The longing was like the dull ringing inher ears, or the pink and green splotches in her peripheral vision.

Bebel had filled her senses for most of the day, overwhelming her (nottoo difficult as of late) when she wasn't chanting to her. Sofia would'vefelt quite satisfied if she weren't tied up in a basement, covered inritualistic paint made from God knew what. She knew that she could leavethis room if she'd yield to them, but she wouldn't do that. She wishedthis unwanted visitor would leave her alone with her sweet-scentedMistress. Or was that 'roommate'?

A familiar voice answered the question that danced drunkenly in Sofia'shead. "Bebel is none of those things to you, child. She's only here toshow you the way."

"Who?" Sofia began, frowning. "Who..." The woman in front of her waswearing a hooded cloak. That voice sounded awfully young to be calling her"child".

Then Bebel leaned in to kiss her, making her dizzy. "It's time to meetthe Headmistress, initiate."

Sofia craned her neck forward to sustain the kiss, and moaned incomplaint when Bebel stepped away. Then she gasped sharply when she sawthat the other woman had pulled the hood away from her face.

This was simply too outrageous for Sofia to bear. The smoke and mirrorsfrom the last two weeks fell away. For a moment, they'd almost had herthinking she was being slowly consumed by a real coven of witches. Butthis was just silly. They had to be deluded weirdos playing out a sickfantasy, like her friend Dustin who thought he was a vampire. He'd evenbought a coffin! "Lewellyn... Come off it. Let me down."

Lewellyn was still smiling, but she was showing her teeth a little toomuch. "Poor little Goth girl. Dressing in black, but clinging to her tinyworld to the last." Then she leaned in close, inhaling the scent of Sofia'spainted, ravished body. "Let go, Sofia! It's time to surrender to me inthe darkness you've only been able to dream about, 'til now!"

Uncertainty mixed with the trance and the drugs, making Sofia feelnauseous. "Get real," she said unconvincingly.

"Oh, I'm very real, my dear. And much older than you think. I foundedthis school long ago to strengthen my coven." Lewellyn reached out andbegan to stroke Sofia absently. "I like to stay connected to the world,and if I borrow enough energy from you children then I can masquerade asone of you, wandering the halls of this conservatory and looking for themost vibrant candidates. And I've had my eye on you since you auditionedfor us last summer, you delicious, dark-haired thing." Her fingers werebecoming bolder, kneading Sofia's flesh hungrily. "I made sure that Bebelwould keep you on the path. And when she couldn't do that alone, I steppedin myself."

Sofia dizzily recalled quartet rehearsals. Playing music with thiswitch while she fed off her, flushed and pink. She swallowed. "Please letme go."

Lewellyn brushed her arms back and the cloak slid gracefully away fromher impossibly lithe form. Naked except for the leather pants she alwayswore to rehearsals, she leaned in and nuzzled against Sofia, who forgotabout the cold stone behind her and the ropes around her wrists as hermuscles tightened and she saw stars. Lewellyn kissed her deeply. "Joinme," she whispered into her mouth, and warm fog drifted into Sofia's mind.

Sofia jerked against the ropes in climax, wishing she could wrap herarms and legs around the jasmine-scented witch. At the same time she madeone last try to break free. Then something broke inside her.

Licking her lips, she murmured, "I yield, Headmistress Lewellyn."

From The Chronicle, Sunday, February 18

...If you were unable to attend last night's concert by the NouskovaConservatory Women's Orchestra, then you missed a rare treat. It's notoften that one hears such a young ensemble play with such precision andmaturity. Moving easily from Prokofiev's Scythian Suite for Orchestra toDebussy's La Mer, the girls have assembled an impressive winter tourprogramme which effectively showcases their dexterity. Director LewellynRosmerta (looking quite young to be a faculty member) seemed to hold thecomplete attention of the entire ensemble throughout the performance. Infact, the intensity with which the group followed its conductor was quiteeerie.

Of particular interest to this reviewer was Sofia Eaton's performanceduring Penderecki's Quartet for Viola and Orchestra. The young soloistseemed to hold the audience in thrall while under the spell of the musicherself. At the end of the piece, as she held the final, elegant high tonewhile the orchestra imitated her, she also seemed to ensnare the orchestrawith her charms. Overall a very compelling performance and I'll watch Ms.Eaton's future with interest. There's a rumor floating around that she hasalready been offered tenure at the Nouskova Conservatory...